


Stories From Clover Fields

by TaylorLives



Series: MHAU [2]
Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M, Mental Hospital AU, Short Stories, each chapter is tagged individually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-11 09:38:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12932538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaylorLives/pseuds/TaylorLives
Summary: A collection of stories from the patients at Clover Fields. Before, during, and after Brendon's stay.





	1. AUTHORS NOTE

Hey okay so I've had tiny little story ideas bouncing around in my head for a while. It's just basically every fic idea I've ever wanted to do. 

 

Chapters will be tagged individually with Major Archive Warnings, minor ones, ratings, ships, and summaries. And a little about the time frame. I might even go back and date TSOFDOALF but we'll see. 

 

And I'm always _always_ open to ideas. Hope y'all enjoy

 

 


	2. If by chance you catch me sleeping, please dont wake me cause I'll be dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A year and a half Before Brendon. This is unbeta-ed so sorry for any mistakes.
> 
>  
> 
> Ship: Dallon/Ryan. Rating: M.  
> Major Archive Warnings: Underage  
> Minor Warnings: Suicidal... behavior, nightmares, hair pulling, reference to past abuse

Ryan clutched his hair hard, biting on the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. His father had kept up the past 4 nights with his incessant yelling. He was beginning to wonder how long it would take now for him to actually break, snap into a new level of insanity. 

Ryan vaguely remembered learning about the man who managed to stay awake for 11 days straight, but he probably wasn't 105lbs of pure basketcase. 

It was a level of exhaustion Ryan didn't even think was possible. He couldn't get out of bed, risk missing the 5 minute naps he could manage to catch before jolting awake again. He knew it probably wasn't helping, but Ryan had to believe it was to avoid panicking. 

“Ryan??” His father called, the sound of his fists hitting the door, making Ryan jump. He groaned, rolling over and plugging his ears. That never helped either. 

“You want me to stop, Ryan?” He patronized. “You fucking know how to stop me.” Thumping fists punctuated his words. 

Ryan’s stomach dropped, almost helping to ground him. 

It would be so fucking easy. 

And he’d finally get to rest. 

That thought alone made Ryan tear up. 

Reason number two why he shouldn't leave his bed: he gets weepy when he’s tired. 

“Ryan?” 

Ryan groaned again, putting his pillow over his head. 

“Ryan?” 

“Fuck off already!” Ryan exclaimed, but it was muffled even to his own ears. 

A hand landed on Ryan’s shoulder, scaring him half to death. He sat up straight, throwing his pillow to the end of the bed. 

Janice stood at the edge of his bed, hand mid air. “I’m so sorry Ryan, I didn't mean to scare you.” 

Ryan took a couple of deep breaths. He supposed he couldn't be too upset, he had given Janice permission to touch him. She was the only one allowed to touch him to bring him back to reality.  
“Not your fault.” He swallowed. “What’s up?” 

Janice blinked at his casualness, but continued. “You have a new roommate.” 

Ryan only then noticed the very tall man standing behind her. “This is Dallon.”

Dallon gave a small wave, smiling brightly. Ryan’s stomach dropped again. He didn't know why this time. Ryan’s fear must have shown because Janice began again: “He’s very kind, and quite a laugh. I think you’ll get on well.” 

Ryan knew well enough by now that the only reason he’d get a roommate is if they were running out of beds. Plus, this guy’s gotta have five years on Ryan. At least. 

He was trying to work out a way to explain to Dallon what was wrong with him without totally freaking him out when Janice spoke again. He must’ve spaced out. 

“I’ll leave you boys to it. Make sure you try to get to lunch, Ryan, I can barely even tell you're there under those covers.” 

Ryan breathed out a laugh, but it only seemed to knock the wind out of him. He put his pillow back behind him as Janice took her leave. 

 

***

7 nights. Ryan’s fucking father had kept him awake for a week straight. His doctor finally tried him on a sedative, but it only kept him more awake. 

He had a lot of time to get to know Dallon, however. It wasn't as scary as Ryan feared it be, to talk to someone. To talk to someone attractive. 

And Dallon was fucking attractive. Ryan couldn't quite put his finger on what made Dallon so special. It had something to do with his genuinity, though. He explained to Dallon about the voice, how he’d been awake for so many days that he wasn't sure time was passing at all.  
(Luckily, Janice was kind enough to bring him a clock, and Ryan doesn't think he’s ever been more grateful in his life.) But Dallon listened to his entire story without trying to pick him apart, or accuse him of seeking attention. 

The same night, Dallon told Ryan the reason he was at Clover Fields. 

“It’s not like I get turned on by anything that breathes, or am gonna try to peek at you in the shower or something, it’s just… it just makes me feel good, y’know?” he explained, ears red. 

“Yeah, I think I understand.” Ryan said, pulling his knees against his chest. He picked idly at the fraying quilt he was sitting on. The springs squeaked as he moved. 

“Oh good!” Dallon smiled, sitting up a little straighter. “I really didn't want to freak you out, because you’re greatest.” 

“Oh-” Ryan blushed. “I’m not that-” 

“Usually the cute boys get scared when I tell them that, and I don't think it’s fair to not tell the people I involve myself with what's going on, and I’m so glad you could be that exception.” 

Ryan didn't really know what to say after that. It went back to awkward small talk until Dallon finally went to sleep. 

It’s the night after that, that frequents Ryan’s dreams. 

Day 7 of being awake was coming to the end, and it seemed like Ryan was looking at an eighth night. Death was looking more and more relieving as each hour passed. 

Around 1 am, he finally began to drift off. 

 

Ryan stood facing the front door of his house. His dad’s car was in the driveway but he wasn't supposed to be home for hours. The dread filling Ryan was familiar. He had been here before, many times.

He heard the crash through the door before he had time to prepare himself. A sickening crunch that Ryan had thought nothing of when he lived it. He fumbled with his keys, exhaling when he finally got the door open. 

Ryan had spent the last few months running home from school, making sure he was home before his dad, to keep his mom safe. He was a couple of minutes late that day, having stopped to discuss his essay grade with his English teacher. It was a poetry unit, Ryan got an A. Not that it mattered anymore. 

The door swung open with a soft creak, a sound that used to remind him of home, made him feel warm, now chilled him to the bone. 

He saw the blood before his mother’s crumpled form. She was bent in an unnatural shape, in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Each wrist bled profusely, soaking into her sundress. 

“I fucking told you what would happen, Ryan.” His father said from the top of the stairs, making Ryan unfreeze. He scrambled in and collapsed next to his mother, gripping each of her wrists in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

“No, no, no.” Ryan mumbled, panic inflating his chest. “No, not her, not her, not her. Not now, why now?”

“She couldn't put up with your fucking shit anymore!” His voice raising with each word. 

Ryan’s fingers slipped around as he tried to locate a pulse, but it was no use. His mother’s glossy eyes were open and unfocused, an unnatural lump in her neck. 

She died on impact. 

“Wha-” Ryan tried. He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve, inadvertently smearing blood across his cheek. He whimpered, biting on his lip hard. If he spoke he’d fall apart. “What happened?” 

“You fucked up. That’s what fucking happened.” 

Ryan was shaking with the emotions he wouldn't let himself show. He couldn't stop the slow trickle of tears, but he managed to keep from sobbing. His chest ached with the effort. He felt like he was going to be sick. 

“I need to make some phone calls, I don't want to see your fuckin’ mug for the rest of the night, you hear me?” 

Ryan tried to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“Do you fuckin’ hear me, boy?” 

Ryan nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

 

His father disappeared back up into the hall, leaving Ryan in the pool of blood. It was then he let himself break, sobbing into his mother’s hair. 

“You’re all I had, how am I fuckin’ supposed to do this without you?” 

His mother’s lack of response only discouraged him further. 

His frustration left his body in the form of a scream. He tried to muffle it as best he could, but he could hear his father’s footsteps decernding the stairs. He knew what happened next. 

He flinched, waiting for the kick in the ribs. It came right on time, making Ryan yelp. 

“Please.” He whispered. “Please, just please.” 

He waited for the second kick, his father’s biting words, but they never came. 

 

“Ryan? Wake up, you’re having a bad dream.” 

Ryan startled awake, instinctively kicking at the figure perched on the edge of his bed. 

Dallon ignored the kick, just shifted closer to him, taking his hand. 

“I finally fucking fell asleep.” Ryan stated. He hadn't meant to sound ungrateful, but his tone betrayed him. 

“Would you have prefered if I let you finish out the nightmare?” Dallon asked, not taking offense. 

“No, I guess not.” Ryan replied honestly. He turned to lean back against the wall, facing Dallon, but putting a bit of distance between them. 

He let go of Dallon’s hand momentarily to wipe the sweat from his palms. When he took it again, their fingers interlocked. 

Dallon smiled reassuringly at him when he met his eyes. “What was it about?” 

Ryan shrugged automatically. It’s not like it would make any difference if he told Dallon or not, and he didn't feel like reliving it again so soon. 

Dallon nodded, thumb brushing over Ryan’s knuckles. His heart was still thumping quickly in his chest and Dallon was doing nothing to help it. 

“I- I just need to get out of my head.” Ryan began, the lack of yelling coming from his father was putting him on edge. He’d come back soon enough. “He’ll come back and I can't be in my head when he does.” 

Ryan didn't know what he was asking until Dallon answered, scooting up next to him and throwing an arm around him. Ryan clung to him, burying his face in Dallon’s neck where it was warm and he could hear a pulse. 

Dallon ran his fingers through Ryan’s hair, the other hand tight on Ryan’s hip. He let himself melt, let the tears fall because in that moment, it didn't matter how much power Dallon had over him. He felt safer than he had in a couple years. 

His father wasn't allowed to visit him, but it didn't stop Ryan from fearing that he still might show up someday to bring Ryan back home. 

“You’re safe now.” Dallon said, seemingly reading his mind. 

Ryan nodded, Dallon’s hand caching on a knot, making Ryan gasp. 

“When’s the last time you brushed your hair?” Dallon laughed, trying to pull the knot apart without causing Ryan too much pain. 

“Been too tired.” Ryan replied, feeling the exact opposite of pain. 

“Here,” Dallon said, leaning over Ryan’s lap to grab his hair brush off his dresser. “Sit in front of me.” 

“You gonna braid my hair and tell me about your boy problems?” Ryan teased, but moved to sit between Dallon’s bracketed legs. 

“You want me to?” Dallon asked, carefully brushing his hair from the bottom up. 

Ryan couldn't imagine what kind of boy troubles Dallon could’ve gotten into in the past four days, but- 

Ryan was pulled from his thoughts as the brush caught him the wrong way. The apology was already halfway out Dallon’s mouth when Ryan moaned, surprising the both of them.

Dallon went rigid behind him, making Ryan tense up as well. There was no way to play that off. 

“Sorry.” Ryan rushed, trying to get up, get out of the situation, but Dallon caught him by the elbow. 

“Hey, no, that was my fault. I’ll be more careful.” 

Ryan turned, squinted at Dallon. It was clearly Ryan’s fault, he was the one half hard because a boy pulled his hair. By accident. 

Reason number 3 why he shouldn't go without sleep. 

“Come on,” Dallon tried again. “I dig the whole hippy vibe, but you’ve heard Frank, dreads suck.” 

Ryan considered the walls he built around himself, and let himself chuckle instead. He could trust Dallon. “Fine.” 

Dallon made a happy little noise as Ryan returned to his lap. 

He kept his promise about being more careful, working on Ryan’s hair in sections. Ryan tried not to dwell on his disappointment. 

Dallon started to run into problems when he attacked the thickest part of Ryan’s hair. “There’s no way I can do this gently.” he warned. 

“That’s okay, I'm actually expecting it this time.” 

Dallon had to use his fingers at first, loosening the knot enough for it to begin to slip. Ryan was covered in goosebumps, using all his willpower to keep from shivering, but Dallon’s nails kept dragging against his skin. He couldn't help himself. 

“It’s okay if it feels good.” Dallon said. 

Ryan wanted to turn to see if he was imagining the smirk in Dallon’s voice, but decided better of it. 

“And if it feels, y’know... good?” He asked quietly, cheeks burning like the fumbling teenager he was. 

“That’s okay too.” Dallon replied without missing a beat.

He untangled the last of the knot with a sharp tug. Ryan barely bit back a gasp. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?” Dallon said, running his fingers through Ryan’s now smooth hair. He was definitely smirking that time. 

“That’s one word for it.” Ryan said, tone bordering on rueful. Sensitive from years of being dragged around by his hair, thrown into walls, pulled up the stairs. And with Ryan’s self esteem, cutting it was never an option. 

Nothing Dallon did was uncomfortable, though.

Ryan never thought he’d find pleasure in something so closely associated with his past, but there he was, head resting back on Dallon’s shoulder as he carded through his hair. 

“I thought that’d take longer.” Dallon admitted softly. “So much for getting you out of your head.” 

“Hey,” Ryan said, frowning. He finally met Dallon’s gaze. They were closer like this, the scent of toothpaste still strong on Dallon’s breath. “I may not have been totally out of my head, but you just being here for me like this means a lot.” 

Dallon lit up, arm tightening around Ryan’s waist.  
“Of course, Ryan. Any time. And I mean it. ” 

Ryan matched Dallon with a smile of his own. Dallon seemed to falter for a moment, searching Ryan’s eyes for something. 

“What?” Ryan asked. 

“Just trying to figure out how you’d react if I kissed you right now.” Dallon said, his tone reflecting his flirtation, though his expression aired caution. 

Ryan felt his heart skip. He gripped Dallon’s bicep, turning toward him fully. “Find out.” 

Dallon hesitated a moment, almost as if he imagined it, then slid one hand to rest on Ryan’s jaw. 

When Dallon didn't move, Ryan did, meeting him in a kiss. All caution went with the wind as Ryan hooked one thigh over Dallon’s, straddling it. Dallon’s hands found his hair immediately, pulling lightly just to test. 

Ryan sighed into the kiss, letting Dallon lick into his mouth. 

Dallon did it again with a bit more force. 

Ryan broke away, sucking in some fresh air. “More.”

Dallon gripped his hair harder, watching with parted lips as Ryan shuddered out a moan. 

“More.” He said again. 

“Ry-” 

“I’m okay.” He reassured him. “I can take it, just- please.” 

“Fuck.” Dallon breathed, pulling harder. 

Ryan let out a low groan, having to arch into Dallon to compensate for the angle at which his neck was bent. 

Dallon took advantage, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Ryan’s neck, his jaw, anywhere he could reach. 

Ryan dug his nails into Dallon’s arms, making the older boy hiss. He was rocking into Dallon against his own volition, breathing hard. 

Dallon pulled him closer, causing every slight shift in movement to send tingly waves of heat through Ryan’s stomach. 

“Dallon-” Ryan panted, trying to regain some sense of control, but Dallon was rock hard against his stomach, pulling Ryan’s collar down to bite dark marks along his neck and across his collarbones. 

“You’re safe with me.” Dallon said, slipping a hand between them, into Ryan’s pants. 

Ryan moaned brokenly, slumping against Dallon when he came a few seconds later. 

After catching his breath, Ryan tried to shift back, help Dallon finish, but he caught his hand instead. 

“What about you?” Ryan asked with a frown. 

Dallon brought the hand to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to Ryan’s palm. 

“Don't worry about me.” Dallon insisted, chuckling lightly as Ryan’s eyes began to droop. “You need to get some sleep.” 

Ryan wanted to get Dallon off, but he couldn't fight the exhaustion coming at him full force. 

“Fine.” Ryan said, rolling off Dallon. “But I owe you.” 

“You don't owe me anything.” Dallon replied, getting up and tossing a clean pair of pyjama pants at Ryan. 

He took them graciously, not bothering with a new pair of boxers. “Thank you.” 

Dallon smiled. He knew Ryan wasn't talking about the pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never in my life did I think I'd ever write Dallon/Ryan slash but here we are lmao. I wanted to name this chapter Daddy Issues, but I wanted to keep some subtly around Ryan's fondness for Dallon :)
> 
> jonwalkerthebassplayer.tumblr.com


	3. Letters To Brendon (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta-ed so sorry for any mistakes.
> 
>  
> 
> Time Frame: About half a year since Brendon left, 3 months since Frank and Gerard left  
> Ship: Frank/Gerard. Rating: G.  
> Major Archive Warnings: None  
> Minor Warnings: None

_ January 8th _

 

_ Dear Brendon,  _

_ How’s everything going on your end? We’ve only been out a couple of months now. The phone calls have been nice, but I don't always feel like I can get everything out that way. I’m starting to get a little worried about Gerard. I knew when I left Clover Fields with him that I’d be responsible for his well being. I don't resent having to care for him, it’s just hard to keep an eye on him while working to support the both of us. I’m barely home and it’s not good for him to spend so much time alone with his thoughts. _

_ He doesn't talk about Mikey anymore. He doesn't talk much at all. If he keeps spending all day at home, he’s going to actually drive himself crazy. Maybe the four of us can get together sometime. I know it would be good for Gerard to have a friend.  _

_ xofrnk _

 

Frank sighs, letting the pen clatter to the table. He feels sneaky, talking to Brendon about Gerard behind his back like this, but he needs help. Frank can't hold both him and Gerard up completely alone. He folds the letter, slipping it into an envelope. He hopes he’s not making a mistake.

 

***

 

After about a week of no response, Frank decides to try again. 

 

 

 

_ January 20th _

_ Dear Brendon, _

_ I got Gerard to take a couple of art classes down at the college by us. They offer cheap classes to ex-cons and vets in an effort to clean up the streets or whatever. Gerard’s case worker was actually the one to point it out to us. He had to give Gerard like, a prescription to go since he was never technically convicted. But he seems to really like it. He’s smiling more, even making friends. Not to mention the actual artwork that comes out of it is gorgeous. At this rate, we’ll run out of wall room by Valentine's Day. Speaking of which, double date maybe? There’s this coffee shop diner thing down the street- its one of the craziest buildings I’ve ever been in. I bet Ryan would love it.  _

_ Hope to see you guys soon! _

_ xofrnk _

Frank knew reaching out was the right idea. His cheeks are beginning to get sore from how much he’s grinning. He seals up the letter, humming to himself. He probably should’ve mentioned the Valentines Day plan to Gerard before inviting Ryan and Brendon out, but it was late.

A quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s much later than Frank thought. He has to be up in five hours for his shift at Evan’s shop. Never in a thousand years did Frank think he’d ever be working on cars for a living, but it pays the bills. He has another job at a local Chinese food restaurant, but it pays poorly and leaves Frank feeling greasy all over by the time he gets home. 

Frank’s phone buzzes and he comes back to reality, dragging a hand over his scratchy face. He’s due for a shave. 

_ Be home soon, stopped with Bert after class to grab a coffee. Love you.  _

Bert is one of the aforementioned friends that Gerard made at art class. He’s happy for Gerard, honestly, but something about Bert just doesn't sit well with Frank.    
  


_ I'll probably be asleep, going into Evan’s early tomorrow, but I’ll be home for lunch. Can't wait to see what you made. Love you too.  _

It mystifies Frank how Gerard is able to drink coffee at midnight and still get sleep. Putting his phone on the charger, Frank strips down and gets into bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters will be on going. It's one of the bigger plots, so like every other chapter will be Letters probably. 
> 
> Come yell at me: jon-walker-the-bass-player.tumblr.com


	4. Locked Away, Lost in Time (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time Frame: After Jon and Spencer get out, before Spencer’s coke scare.   
> Ship: ... none yet- dont even worry about it  
> Major Archive Warnings: None  
> Minor Warnings: none yet

Barely a month after finally leaving Clover Fields, Ryan receives a call from Jon Walker, the one and only. 

 

“Jon Walker the Fucking Bass Player, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Ryan answers with a smile, shooting a look at Brendon. 

 

Brendon returns it easily before turning back to his book, but Ryan can tell he still has an ear open. 

 

“Well, Mrs. Urie, I’d like to invite you and your husband to a celebration!” 

 

“Oh fuck off!” Ryan laughs, catching Brendon’s attention again. He can hear Jon stifling his laugh over the line. “What  _ kind _ of celebration?” 

 

Brendon really perks up now, dropping his book to crawl up onto the bed next to Ryan.

 

“Brendon’s here too.” Ryan adds, putting his cell on speaker and handing it to Brendon. 

 

“Oh good, hey Bren!” 

 

“Hey man.” Brendon replies, unable to control his grin. He really fucking missed Jon Walker. 

 

“Spencer’s going home! Well, not like  _ home  _ home, but home to  _ me _ . And I think we should celebrate.” 

 

Brendon and Ryan exchange a look. 

 

“Celebrate how?” Brendon asks suspiciously. 

 

“I was thinking another fire, just like old times. Ry can bring a guitar, Brendon, bring your voice.” 

 

Brendon chuckles, but Ryan frowns a little, taking the phone. “Illegal activities included?” 

 

“You know it, brother!” 

 

Brendon fist bumps the air, faltering when he doesn't see Ryan sharing in his excitement. 

 

“Don't get me wrong,” Ryan begins to explain to Brendon. “Just- Jon, aren’t you and Spence supposed to be staying clean?” 

 

Jon scoffs. “I’ve never had a drug  _ problem _ . And don't laugh, I-” 

 

Brendon and Ryan burst out laughing anyways. 

 

“I haven't!” Jon protests. “I smoke a fuck ton of weed, even enjoy a bump every now and again, but it has never been a  _ problem _ . My mom much rather attribute my problems to my drug use rather than her shitty parenting. Besides, weed makes me  _ less  _ angry!” 

 

“Coke make you less angry too?” Ryan teases. 

 

Jon gapes, scrambling for a witty reply. He doesn't find one. “Well we won't be doing any coke, so you don't have to worry. Are you guys coming or not? I’m supposed to pick him up at 3.” 

 

Ryan looks to Brendon for an answer. Brendon nods hopefully.

 

“Okay, Jon. We’re in.” 

 

“Great!” Jon says. Ryan can hear the faint sound of a car engine turning over through the phone. “It’s a three hour drive to get him, so how about I get him, then scoop you two. You guys are close. And be prepared to sleep over! I miss you fuckers.” 

 

“You got it Jon, see you soon.” Brendon says, taking the phone back. 

 

“See you!”

 

***

 

It’s long drive back to wherever in bumfuck Nevada Jon keeps his cabin. Brendon sits in the passenger seat, feet tapping to the beat of ‘505’ by the Arctic Monkeys. 

 

“Does it bother you?” Jon asks quietly.

 

“Does what bother me?” Brendon replies, brows coming together. 

 

Jon glances in his rearview mirror. 

 

Ryan and Spencer have been pressed together the whole trip, just talking under their voices to each other. Every so often one of them would break out in laughter. 

 

“I don't know.” Jon shrugs, trying to sound indifferent. “Just, seems like they're all over each other.” 

 

“I mean, Ryan said they were friends as kids.” But Brendon never thought about it before. “No.” He replies honestly. “I’m not worried about it.” 

 

Jon doesn't say anything, but Brendon can see how tightly he’s gripping the wheel. 

 

“And you shouldn't be either.” Brendon says, reaching over to squeeze Jon’s knee. 

 

Jon visibly relaxes. Brendon doesn't move his hand. 

 

***

Jon and Spencer are first out of the car when the group arrives at the Walker’s cabin in the woods. They have to be as far as Death Valley as this point, not that Brendon’s complaining. He likes the quiet out here. 

 

Jon helps Spencer with his bags, grabbing him by the middle, yelling something about having to carry him across the threshold. 

 

Brendon and Ryan take another moment to load up on the rest of the luggage. 

 

“You making moves on Jon?” Ryan asks out of nowhere. 

 

Brendon’s brows come together. He heaves his bag out of Jon’s jeep, throwing it over his shoulder. 

 

“Spencer noticed.” Ryan clarifies. 

 

“Ah, I see.” Brendon replies, grabbing Ryan’s guitar with one hand, Ryan’s hand with the other. “He thought Spence was making moves on  _ you _ .” 

 

“Oh.” Ryan laughs, though he definitely notices Brendon’s lack of response. “Poor insecure bastard.”

 

Brendon laughs too, tugging on Ryan’s hand to get him moving toward the cabin. 

 

Jon and Spencer are already inside and Brendon is fucking cold. 

 

Ryan slows again. “Did you think that too?” 

 

Brendon stops, turning to face Ryan on the porch step. “I mean, you usually don't let people get that physical with you.”

 

Ryan blushes, not expecting for it to be turned on him like that. It could’ve just been Brendon’s way of phrasing it, but it sounded like an accusation. He expects Brendon to elaborate, but he doesn't, just laughs knowingly. 

 

“It’s not something I’m worried about.” Brendon says, looking him in the eye. 

 

Ryan wasn't even aware there’s something  _ to  _ worry about. “But-” 

 

“I understand. And I’m not worried about it.” 

 

Ryan doesn't understand even a little, but he finds himself nodding. 

 

Brendon smiles kindly at him. “Now come on, who knows what kind of shit they’re getting into without our _ adult supervision _ .” 

 

Ryan snorts, holding onto Brendon’s arm tighter as they make their way inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is gonna be a fun one


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time Frame: About a year before Ryan’s admission.   
> Ship: Ryan/Spencer. Rating: E  
> Major Archive Warnings: Underage. (Everything is consensual, but some of the hesitance on both sides could be triggering if you're sensitive to that kind of thing)  
> Minor Warnings: fairly graphic description of abuse, manipulation, pity sex?? kinda?? maybe??, family issues

Spencer didn't even know what he was doing at first, how much he was truly helping Ryan. He loved having sleepovers with his best friend, and his mom loved Ryan like a second son, so Ryan would often find himself staying with the Smiths.

 

It was usually just weekends, but sometimes there were rare week nights where Spencer would find himself on the phone with a hysterical Ryan. He didn't ask questions, just went out to pick Ryan up where ever he was, at whatever time. That was the real reason Spencer got his license the second he could. He wasn't just taking advantage of being older, like he told Ryan.

 

And Spencer was fine not knowing the details. He was close enough with Ryan to know that if he needed to know specifics, he would. It didn't stop Spencer from worrying.

 

Spencer got a call one night a little past midnight. He wasn't asleep, honestly he was expecting it. Ryan had already stayed over his house 3 times that week. When he finally spent the night at home again, he didn't come to school the next day, scaring Spencer half to fucking death.

 

Luckily, he returned the next day, putting Spencer at ease. At least for a little.

 

Spencer didn't bother to check the caller ID before picking up. “Ry?”

 

“S-s-spencer- I- can you-” Spencer could barely make out Ryan’s words, his voice was shaking so hard. A loud crash over the line made Spencer spring into motion, sitting up, he tugged his shoes on.

 

“Ryan? What’s going on?” Spencer asked, heart in his throat. He’s seen Ryan cry, be scared, angry, but Spencer had never heard such raw terror.

 

“No, no, please, Dad, it’s my fault, please. Just go, _please_.”

 

Ryan’s voice was distant; he wasn't talking to Spencer.

 

Spencer fumbled around in the dark for his car keys. “Ryan?”

 

“No!” Ryan screamed, voice breaking. “Don't- Stop! Please!”

 

Spencer could barely keep hold of his keys as he left his room.

 

The desperation in Ryan’s voice was horrifying. Screaming at the top of his lungs, the sound of earnest, life or death begging.

 

“Ryan?” There was some mumbling over the line that Spencer couldn't make out, but it wasn't Ryan.

 

“Okayokayokayokay, I’m going, I’m sorry, I'm going, I’m going.” Ryan managed to gasp out between huge gulps of breath. It sounded like he was hyperventilating. “I’msorryimsorryimsorryimsorry”

 

Spencer jammed his key in the ignition and took off down the street, burning rubber. He’d have a lot of explaining to do to his mom once he got home.

 

“Ryan?” Spencer tried again.

 

Ryan took a shaky breath. “I’ll be at the end of my street.” he whispered, the line going dead.

 

“Hold on, I’ll be right there.” Spencer said to dead air.

 

It usually only took 10 minutes to get to Ryan’s house, but Spencer managed to get there in barely 5, breaking his “no higher than 15 mph over the speed limit” rule.

 

Ryan was standing at the corner of his street, like a ghost waiting for a bus that’d never come.

 

Spencer came to a stop, unlocking his doors so Ryan could get in.

 

Ryan moved like a ghost too, climbing into the passenger’s seat, putting on his seat belt like he had time and time again. Spencer could feel the difference though. Something new, something serious had happened, and there was no way Ryan was going to tell him.

 

Once Ryan was numbed out again, it was nearly impossible to get any emotional response from him.

 

“Are you hurt?” Spencer asked, making no move to begin driving.

 

Ryan snorted humorlessly.

 

Spencer rolled his eyes, clicking the overhead light on. He carefully tilted Ryan’s face into the light, checking for cuts and bruises.

 

Ryan shook him off, sinking back into the car cushions. “He didn't touch me.”

 

While Spencer didn't know the details, he was smart enough to see the signs.

 

“Good.” Spencer nodded, turning the light back off and shifting into gear. He could feel the poison filling his stomach at the thought of anyone putting their hands on Ryan. “I’d fucking kill him.”

 

***

  
The rest of the car ride was silent. Ryan only spoke once they were back at the house, on their way to Spencer’s room.

 

“I just did laundry, so there’s clean pajamas in the dresser. I have to tell mom you’re here, but I’ll be in in a sec, okay?” Spencer whispered.

 

“Yeah.” Ryan whispered back, not meeting Spencer’s eyes. “What are you gonna tell her?”

 

“The usual?” Spencer asked. They both knew that what had happened wasn't the usual, but Ryan nodded.

 

Spencer squeezed his shoulder, watching Ryan retreat to his room before going to wake his mother.

 

She didn't quite seem to believe it was the usual either, but she didn't hold Spencer too long for questioning.

 

He was back to his room after a few minutes. Ryan was curled up under his blankets, staring at the opposite wall.

 

Spencer, still in his pajamas decided to put one of the road trip mixes in his boom box, keeping the volume low. He had learned from experience that having background music can really save a life. Being alone with dark thoughts was never a good idea, and Spencer doubted they’d be getting any sleep tonight.

 

“Scoot.” Spencer said, knocking Ryan’s knee with his own.

 

Ryan rolled back into Spencer’s pillows, allowing Spencer to get in and curl up to his side.

 

“That wasn't the usual.” Spencer needlessly pointed out. It was more to gauge Ryan’s reaction than anything.

 

Ryan shook his head. “No it was not.”

 

“You don't have to tell me, but this is scaring me Ryan, and I can't even imagine what effect it’s having on you.”

 

Ryan took a moment, searching for the right words. “My mom- she just wanted my dad to leave, he was supposed to be gone for a couple of days. For work or whatever.”

 

Spencer waited.

 

“He came home drunk, wouldn't leave, so my mom tried to get _me_ out instead, but I didn't want to leave her with him.”

 

Ryan’s hands were tightly balled into fists.. Spencer pried them open, slipping his fingers between Ryan’s.

 

“And then when _I_ wouldn't leave…” Ryan’s face scrunched up, trying to keep from crying long enough to finish his goddamn sentence. “She uh, threatened to kill herself.”

 

“Ryan she wouldn't-”

 

“She had the knife to her fuckin’ neck, Spencer.” Ryan interrupted so quietly that Spencer wouldn't have noticed if his ear wasn't pressed to Ryan’s shoulder.

 

Spencer propped himself up on his elbow so he could meet Ryan’s eyes. “She wouldn't leave you with him.”

 

“Yeah I thought she was bluffing too, until she _cut_ herself.”

 

“Oh the throat?” Spencer asked with disbelief. Even knowing Ryan through kindergarten, Spencer never really had a chance to get to know Mrs. Ross. Most hangouts happened at the Smith’s house, leaving Ryan’s mother a mystery to Spencer.

 

Ryan nodded. “Just enough to bleed.”

 

“Shit.” Spencer swore, settling back again. When Ryan didn't lean into his side, Spencer pulled him. He collapsed on impact, crying into Spencer’s chest.

 

Spencer held him close, softly humming along to ‘The World I Know’ by Collective Soul.

 

Ryan cried until he just couldn't anymore. When he finally fell silent, he was quietly long enough that Spencer actually began to think he fell asleep. The CD had looped around at least twice before Spencer reached over to rip the cord out of the wall.

 

Ryan startled at the movement.

 

“Sorry.” Spencer mumbled, rubbing Ryan’s back.

 

Ryan didn't reply, but Spencer felt a warm hand come up to rest just under his jaw.

 

“Ryan-” Spencer said, ghost of a warning infiltrating his tone.

 

Ryan’s lips were on his before he had a chance to weigh his conscience.

  
Spencer usually had no problem with kissing his friends, because it was never serious, never frequent, and there was usually some kind of mind altering substance involved. So he had to stop kissing Ryan; because it became frequent, usually when they were sober, and it certainly became serious to Spencer, at least. That was the other part; Ryan kissed people to get out of his own head. To focus on someone else for a bit. It wasn't for Spencer’s benefit.

 

Spencer could never say no to Ryan, he should’ve know he wouldn't be able to resist. Anything to make Ryan feel better, even at his own expense. That’s what love was to Spencer.

 

So he kissed back, knowing the hurt he’d feel the next day.

 

Ryan took his compliance as encouragement, deepening the kiss.

 

Spencer absently slid his finger tips up and down the ridge of Ryan’s spine, gasping breathlessly as Ryan sucked on his tongue. It had never gone farther than kissing, which is kind of impressive, Spencer thought, considering the circumstances, but Ryan was moving with purpose.

 

Spencer felt almost rushed, his senses overwhelmed with Ryan hovering in his space. It was disorienting, Ryan’s hands on his hips, lips on his neck in the darkness of his bedroom.

 

Spencer was forced back into the present when Ryan shoved a hand down his pants, taking Spencer by the base and slowly sliding up his length. Spencer exhaled hard, letting his head fall back against the pillow.

 

“Ryan, are you sure we should-”

 

“Look me in the eye and tell me you want me to stop,” Ryan began. Spencer met his cold eyes. “And I will.”

 

Spencer knew manipulation like Ryan knew lies. Spencer argued to himself that it could hardly be considered manipulation when he was so willing. How could he complain if it made Ryan feel better to get him off?

 

Spencer didn't reply so Ryan sped up, using his palm to spread the pre-cum down Spencer’s cock, getting him slick. He panted into Ryan’s neck, heat building steadily in his lower stomach.

 

“Ry- if you keep- I can't.”

 

“Then don't.” Ryan smirked, watching his best friend come undone by his hands. He kept pace, flicking his wrist.

 

Spencer’s head fell back again, lips parting as he concentrated on Ryan’s hands. It wasn't long before he was coming in his pants, over Ryan’s knuckles.

 

When Spencer came down, Ryan stepped up, wiping the mess on his discarded jeans.

 

“Where are you going?” Spencer asked, still trying to catch his breath.

 

“Nowhere.” Ryan said after a beat. He crawled back over Spencer, getting between him and the wall, under the covers.

 

“Good.” Spencer said, leaning over Ryan and running a hand down his chest. “Because it's your turn.”

 

Ryan pushed his hand off. “I’m fine.”

 

Spencer squinted at him. “You’re not fine Ryan, _fuck_. You’re _not_ -”

 

“Why does it matter?” Ryan cut him off, raising his voice.

 

It was supposed to sound like anger. Any other time, Spencer would just play along, but it wasn't the usual anymore.

 

“Because… because- look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me to.” Spencer said, tone nowhere near as confident as Ryan’s had been before. He had no way of knowing if he could even affect Ryan like that.

  
Ryan blinked for a moment before pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Fuck.” He swore.

 

Spencer’s racing heart echoed in his ears, making him dizzy.

 

“Fuck.” Ryan said again, sitting up and surprising Spencer with a kiss. He pulled Spencer back with him as he laid back, wrapping his legs around Spencer’s waist.

 

Ryan moaned, breaking the kiss to slip a hand between them.

 

“No, here.” Spencer said, unhooking Ryan’s legs and moving down his body.

 

Spencer had absolutely no experience giving blowjobs, but he was also positive that Ryan had never received one either, so that at least calmed his nerves a little.

 

He pulled Ryan’s pants down, licking slowly up his length. Spencer slipped the head of Ryan’s cock into his mouth, sucking softly while he worked his hand over what his mouth couldn't reach.

 

Ryan moaned loudly, making Spencer’s stomach drop.

 

Spencer pulled off, meeting his eyes. “You gotta be quiet.”

 

Ryan nodded urgently, rolling his hips into Spencer’s fist.

 

Spencer pinned Ryan to the bed by his hip. “And to think, minutes ago you were acting like you wouldn't fucking enjoy this.” he said with more malice than intended.

 

Ryan swallowed hard, hips twitching involuntarily. Spencer glared at him, pressing his thumbs a bit harder into Ryan’s skin.

 

“It’s fucking hot when you swear like that.” Ryan said with an unreadable expression.

 

Spencer blushed, choosing to ignore Ryan, sucking him into his mouth again. All the arrogance left Ryan’s body in the form of a muffled gasp.

 

He took Ryan deeper, eyes watering. “Jesus Christ, Spence.” Ryan whined, taking hold of Spencer’s hair.

 

Spencer made a weak sound of disapproval, hollowing his cheeks and pulling up, sucking on the tip.

 

Ryan bit into his arm to contain the moan as he came in Spencer’s mouth, over his lips. Spencer stroked him through it until he was over sensitive and shivering.

 

Spencer was relieved when Ryan curled into his side, pulling the blankets up over their shoulders.

 

“Thank you.” Ryan whispered.”I needed that.”

 

Spencer ran a hand through Ryan’s hair, brushing it back out of his face. “It’s okay to let people take care of you.”

 

“That’s not fair.” Ryan protested. “You already do so much for me.”

 

“Let me rephrase.” Spencer began. “Stop thinking you don't deserve the good things, Ry, and just enjoy them.”

 

He heard Ryan swallow, felt him nod after a moment. “You’re gonna do such great things, Spence.” Ryan mumbled. “You’re gonna stop wars and end hunger, all just with your big heart.”

 

Spencer snorted, poking Ryan in the ribs. “Go to sleep you dork.”

 

***

 

 

After Ryan was admitted to Clover Fields, Spencer didn't really know what to do with himself. He didn't have any other friends and ended up falling into a bad group, not even bothering to come home some nights. After almost half a year, even after blowing almost his entire college fund, he was still doing lines, trying to get Ryan’s voice out of his head. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this boy is a Mess. 
> 
> come talk to me about it:   
> jon-walker-the-bass-player.tumblr.c


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